It was a great culture and it faded.
They always do – in the failing is
their glory. Shining uniform clouds
to populate a sky over autobahns
and genitals scrubbed clean, laws
to regulate coughing. The girls just love
English but speak it like good Kraftwerk
lyrics. In truth, there are vast symmetries
of boredom, flaring to violence and then
reclining on a 3pm beach of gold blue
where nothing happens until a shutter
opens – a gorgeous waft, fine cooking,
eaten over hours.
You would argue, who’d reject this?
The bookshelves in the heat, process
endless to the channel. There comes
the welcome rain, not ugly nor angry.
As an idea, I hate it – only the reality
worked, untrammelled, unstable as
cities built with water for walls – the
blue and white encircling but perfect.
.
Paul Sutton